People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.

"I will carry hell to your doorstep; you will rue the day You will reap the hate you’ve sown no matter how hard you pray It’s a place without any mercy, fashioned in cold blood Stones of fear and stones of doubt No forgiveness, no way out Only justice Then, amen"

"When I began, my Charmander was level fiveFighting in grass, I hardly made it out alivePidgey hurt me with Gust and Sand-AttackNow I am back, Charizard is level 82His Fire Blast is going to roast all of youLook out! Critical hit! Pidgey must be in bits..."

You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.

Sergei: Perhaps it was the haste of a man who longed to take his revenge like is vodka, in one dreadful swallow. But I see now I must take my time. I will plant seeds of revenge and let them grow. Then I'll harvest the vegetables of revenge. And from those vegetables, I will plant more seeds. Stan': And then you'll get your revenge? Sergei: No, Smith. From the third or perhaps fourth harvest revenge-plants, I will make a vegetable stew, and season it perfectly. With revenge!

You have made a habit in using others for your own ends. Now, the Sierra Madre is your reward. Whether you used blackmail or force, or even played to Vera's greed, it will not help down here in the Vault. Greed has led you here. I hope it leaves you as empty as you left me.

Sarda: I made you what you are today so you'd know exactly how insignificant you are when all that power fails to stop me from killing you. Black Mage: That's messed up, Sarda.Sarda: Oh? The thought of it kept me warm for billions of years.

I'm not a "gentleman." Your husband's only trying to be funny calling me one. I don't even know what a gentleman is. You see, my idea of a "gentleman"... Well, Mrs. Kane, if I owned a newspaper and I didn't like the way somebody was doing things, some politician say, I'd fight him with everything I had. Only, I wouldn't show him in a convict's suit with stripes so his children could see the picture in the paper, or his mother.

The cardinal rule in going after someone with an intention to kill was not to make it personal—Which it almost always ended up being anyway. It did with me. I took my time, cruising around the city in the snow. There was no hurry, I knew what I had to do now.

I loved my father. So naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel. I failed. But he gave me these. (points to facial scars) I was eleven years old. And when I was strong enough, I dedicated my life to the study of fencing, so the next time we meet, I will not fail.

Grissom: Are you a terrorist? Walter Gordon: Depends. Are you terrified? Grissom: Look, I really don't want to talk to you. Where is my guy? Gordon: Oh, so ... he is 'your guy', huh? Grissom: Yes, he is. Where is he buried?Gordon: Are you two close? Grissom: That's none of your business. Gordon: What does Nick Stokes mean to you? How do you feel when you see him in that coffin? Does your soul die every time you push that button? How do you feel, knowing that there's nothing you can do to get him out of that hell? Helpless? Useless? Impotent? Good. Welcome to my world.

This is a sad old world, you know. Anyway, that's only my opinion. But the central point is this, Jack: You see, when men like you—and those dickheads from M16 or CIA or whatever sewers you came from—when you take away not only my life, but the innocent lives of my dear beloved wife Natasha and my little boy who's only six, you see... I mean, what can I say?

Anything goes wrong, you're gonna turn around and I'll be gone. Okay? And if that happens, from this day on, any time your kid leaves this house to go to school, go play, see a friend, to buy a fuckin' comic book, you're gonna have to ask yourself: 'Is today Jimmy Shaker day?'

Tony: You're not still pissed about the Switzerland thing, are you? Killian: How can I be pissed at you, Tony? I'm here to thank you. You gave me the greatest gift that anybody's ever given me: Desperation. If you think back to Switzerland—you said you'd meet me on the rooftop, right?—Well for the first 20 minutes, I actually thought you'd show up. And the next hour, I...well I considered taking that one-step shortcut to the lobby, if you know what I mean. But as I looked out over that city, nobody knew I was there, nobody could see me, no one was even looking...I had a thought that would guide me for years to come. Anonymity, Tony. Thanks to you, it's been my mantra ever since.

He brought us to this land of freedom , this America. But then he and my brother went back to Africa to continue the war. And that's when it happened... You killed my benefactor and sent my brother home a cripple. I vowed revenge and joined FOX-HOUND. I knew it was my best chance to meet you, and I prayed for the day that I would.

At long last it ended. Halaster Blackcloak lay panting and drenched with sweat. He stared up into dusty darkness.The rags of his shredded robes clung to him.

"Revenge" he announced calmly, as he forced his last shudders into oblivion,"will now commence."

He did not, however, move for a long time, even when the cold made him shiver. He lay still, remembering every last detail of Nergal's movements, words, and reactions, the archdevil's precise appearance... and what spells would make the best weapons against such a one.

Just as patiently, he recalled the drawbacks and precise effects of each suitable spell and his best tactics for using them in Avernus. At length, he smiled coldly and told the darkness, "It seems Halaster Blackcloak would make a good devil himself."

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